


The Chase

by sarcastic_fina



Series: The Multiships of One Chloe Sullivan [38]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FBI Agent Oliver Queen is after the elusive Chloe Sullivan… but she finds him first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellashy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ellashy).



Oliver Queen became an FBI agent for two reasons; one, he got to help those in need, letting him be the kind of person his parents could be proud of. And two… he loved the chase. In his ten years as a special agent, he'd chased down the very worst of criminals and put them behind bars, where they were meant to be, separated from what good was left of society. As heir to a billion-dollar company, he got a lot of flack from his coworkers and sometimes, it just wasn't worth it. But wanting something good for the world, wanting to see the scum of the earth scraped up and put away was something he felt deep within, something he simply couldn't avoid.

The case of Chloe Sullivan was weighing on him, as it often had. Ten years he'd been pursuing the elusive "Watchtower," chasing her from continent to continent, following her deep into the underbelly of both the best and worth the world could offer. She was not his regular perp; even if she had a background of hacking some of the most secretive government bases, taking and using information at her behest. What boggled both him and the FBI as a whole was that she wasn't selling this information off to the highest bidder, but instead using it to her advantage, taking out some of the worst criminals they'd ever known. One of those being Lex Luthor; an old Excelsior schoolmate of Oliver's and a priority villain on his list. But much to his chagrin, he was never able to take out Luthor, despite his many mistakes and indiscretions over the years.

It seemed Miss. Sullivan had the same hatred for Lex that he did, because she was often at the tail-end of a Luthor disaster, trying to put it out there for all to see and ruin the man in the process. Ever arrogant and triumphant, however, Lex managed to ruin her every strike at him and walked away looking like the good guy time and time again. She, however, was on the FBI's Most Wanted list, and he was the agent assigned to bring her in. She was the only black mark on his record; over the years, he'd gotten every guy he was ordered to, dragging them in no matter the circumstance. And he'd suffered for it; gun shot wounds, scars, stabbings, a short-lived drinking problem that went belly up as soon as Sullivan reappeared on his radar and it was back to work, as usual.

In the last decade, he'd come close to catching her, so close he could taste the sweet reward. However, the chase had become more challenging and far more in-depth than he'd ever imagined. She was not the bad guy, at least not that he could tell. His superiors ordered her brought in, however, and he would not,  _could not_ , fail. The last six months, he'd been on a trail that had yet to go cold. There were a few occasions he actually stood across from her, the latest just three weeks prior…

 _What she was doing in Prague, he didn't do, but where she went so would he. Dressed in black from head to toe, she broke into a high security building with no more than her wits and her fast-moving fingers. He watched from afar, aware that this was a good time to take her in. He wanted to know what she was doing, though, and_ why. _Chloe Sullivan didn't do anything without reason, and so he kept an eye on her from afar, gaze narrowed. She stepped inside easily enough and he followed after her, hardly catching the heavy door before it closed and locked on him. Her footsteps were near silent and so were his as he followed at a safe pace from behind, catching up with her on the sixth floor of the building where she hacked into a computer, once hidden away behind a vault sized security door. When she had her information, a smirk of satisfaction curving her lips, he intercepted her._

_"Little late for Tetris, don't you think?"_

_She whirled around, her triumph quickly slipping away as she set eyes on him. "Agent Queen…" She cocked a brow. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"_

_He chuckled under his breath. "Where you're concerned, Sullivan…? I'm afraid justice doesn't sleep."_

_Her mouth quirked as if there was something utterly amusing about his statement. She began circling toward him, one of her hands tucked behind her back, and though he'd never known her to carry a gun, he couldn't take the chance. "You know… if you weren't so strait-laced, you'd fit right in with my group…" She looked him up and down. "A little leather and a fancy weapon and I bet you'd find the real hero behind the badge."_

_He pursed his lips. "Leather's not really my style."_

_She grinned. "It grows on you."_

_Mind in the gutter, his eyes wandered across her form. For one of the so-called bad-guys, she was entirely too attractive. Blonde hair cut in an attractive bob and intense green eyes set off her face, often accompanied by her red-lipped smile that could be downright sinful when she was hacking. Petite and curvy, her body was one that often haunted his dreams. Firm breasts and flat stomach, he imagined her femininity could be bottled and sold and still never quite matched when faced with the original product._

_"Are we going to do this the easy way?" he asked her, sighing as if he was bored already._

_She laughed. "And end the chase so early?"_

_"Ten years is a short time to you?" he scoffed._

_"Oh Oliver…" The way she said his name sent chills down his spine. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you've been after me." She backed toward the door and shook her head. "It's how I got so good." With that, she turned on her heel and fled._

_He gave chase, ignoring the fact that he was grinning all the while._

_Chasing the bad-guy always gave him a thrill; it was what made a long case worth it. Because he always caught them; whether he had to jump chain-link fences, fight it out in hand-to-hand combat or found himself in the middle of a gun-fight where the odds weren't in his favor. He brought in the target every time, a smug smile in place and the handcuffs secure. But she was never so easy and he imagined that was part of the reason he liked her so much. With all the others, it always ended eventually. He knew he would get them and so the fun had worn off. When his boss had told him all of his attention was meant to be put on her until she was brought in, he'd been excited for the first time in years. Finally, someone who could give him a good run for._

_She was faster than he remembered, climbing the stairs quick and easy and bursting out onto the roof, legs pumping fast beneath her. He scoffed, almost disappointed in her lack of foresight. There was nowhere to go from the roof; no fire escape for her to climb down, and he doubted there'd be a chopper landing to set off alarms or draw attention. When she reached the far end of the roof, looking down at the ground, she turned back to stare at him. Her hair was flying about in the wind, twisting and lashing at her face._

_He held his gun aloft, pointed in her direction, steady despite the fact that he really, truly didn't want to hurt her._

_"End of the line, Chloe… What are you going to do?" He shook his head. "Had to happen some time."_

_"You underestimate me, Oliver… You always have." She held up a disc for him to see. "The information on here will save more people than you can imagine… And it'll bring down a crime boss you haven't even heard of yet." She shook her head, sighing. "If you weren't so blinded, you might realize that_ justice _…" Her eyes narrowed, "It's never been black or white."_

_He pursed his lips. "You've been running around in the grey a long time…" he admitted. "And maybe you aren't the bad guy here, but… Some of the things you've done, the ways you've done them… There are more warrants out for you than every other Most Wanted criminal combined."_

_She smirked, winking. "I'll send you an updated picture for the Guinness Book of World Records."_

_"I'll just use your mugshot… I'll have a new one in less than an hour."_

_Taking a step back, she stood upon the ledge, arms out to stay steady._

_His heart dropped into his stomach. "Never took you for a quitter…"_

_Looking back over her shoulder, she took in the drop below. "You'd be right." Her mouth curved in a smile. "But then… You know me better than most, don't you?"_

_"I've done my homework," he allowed. Inwardly, he knew he'd dug so deep into her history, he probably knew things even_ she _didn't. He'd always been good at his job and researching his target had been a necessity. Over ten years, there'd been a lot to compile on her and he'd had his finger on the pulse where she was concerned, always._

_"Then you know I'm not someone you need to bring in… You know this chase isn't going to end the way your bosses want…" She shook her head, the wind whipping her hair harder, thrusting it back over her shoulders. "The next time we see each other maybe you'll have opened your eyes." With a wave, she stepped back and off the building._

_Eyes wide, he ran for the ledge, his hand falling, gun forgotten. As he leaned forward, eyes searching for her, he felt his heart pumping loud in his ears. She wasn't falling, she hadn't hit the ground, Chloe Sullivan had just pulled off a disappearing act, mid-air, of impossible proportions. Shaking his head, he leaned back, wondering why it was he worried for someone this much. Hell, she'd just eluded him,_  again _, and he was going to get reamed out bad by his boss. But damn… He smiled. At least she was still alive, out there, and for some reason that comforted him._

 _If he didn't know better, he'd think she might just have_ Superman _himself looking out for her, leaping off of tall buildings to save the woman from her ridiculous death-defying acts of rebellion._

Three weeks later and he thought he might have tracked her down once more; he'd always been just a fraction too late to catch up to her since, showing up after she'd already been and gone. He'd done what she'd suggested, dug a little deeper and opened up his big browns to get a better look at what she'd been talking about. The information she'd stolen ended up involving a Salomo Fleischer, a man who'd been blackmailing various government officials, butchering their family members to be sure he had them completely under his control. Working with the Police of Czech Republic, the FBI were able to come together and bring down Fleischer with a little added help. The night before they were set to infiltrate Fleischer's home, a phone call was made from his neighbor, stating that a ruckus had been heard. When they arrived, Fleischer was already in handcuffs and every bit of incriminating evidence there was surrounded him as he waited, red-faced and enraged for the police and FBI to haul away.

Oliver was beginning to question where Chloe's allegiances lay; obviously she wasn't in league with any government approved policing force and she seemed to have little trust in the government as a whole, questioning whether he even knew who he was working for or why. He knew she had a team she worked with, at least three men and another woman, known by their codenames, Impulse, Cyborg, Aquaman and Black Canary, all of whom had worked around the world, but had been traced back to Metropolis, Chloe Sullivan's birthplace and former home.

After a short time working at the Daily Planet, where she butted heads once more with Lex Luthor, she went off the radar for a long while, seen working a friend's charity for awhile before she seemed to disappear right off the radar, her skills coming under suspicion when various high profile people had been hacked, their information stolen and eventually used to force them to voice their indiscretions or face her own form of justice. What that was had yet to be seen, as all of her former targets had come forward to FBI, CIA or local police about their ill-doings. Still, blackmail in any form was a crime, and whether she believed she was doing the right thing or not, she was a criminal now.

"You're  _sure_ this is the place?" Oliver asked again, hand tight around his office phone.

His source sighed. "Do I have to spell it out for you, man? She'll be there. Trust me. I'd bet a bag of burritos on it."

He frowned, his brow raising. If Bart Allen was putting up  _food,_ it meant things were serious. "All right. I'm going. But if this falls through…"

"No new Converse, I  _know_ ," he replied, scoffing. "Just go already, Bossman. You're running out of time and soon she'll be out in the wind."

He had a point. Chloe had a way of being somewhere and then gone so quickly he had to wonder if she'd ever been there at all. "Thanks," he said before hanging up the phone. Grabbing up his jacket, he drew it on, checking the safety on his holstered guns.

"'Nother tip?" one of his coworkers asked, cocking a brow. "Must be a real pain, chasin' after this fish and lettin' her off the hook every time…" He shook his head. "Y'know, Queen, you ever get tired of havin' your head turned and your ass kicked, you let me know and I'll take this case off your manicured hands."

Shooting him the finger, Oliver left his desk and made his way to the elevators, when he found they weren't already waiting for him he impatiently took the stairs, rushing outside to his car, across three lanes of traffic which he only waved at thankfully to appease. Night was falling as he sped through downtown Washington; what the hell she was doing in his city, he didn't know. That was like asking for a target to be painted on her back. But if Bart said she was here, he had to take a chance and check out the lead. And if it didn't pan out, like it was oft to do, and he had to be elsewhere he always had his reliable jet to fall back on. The other agents could rag on him for his wealth, but at least he was able to jump from city to exotic city after his perp and never spare a second.

The Sofitel was a luxury hotel he doubted Chloe could afford, but then she'd been popping up in places he never imagined she'd get into without explicit permission in the past. How she got on some of the planes she must have to get to the places he'd chased her to he  _still_  hadn't found out. He'd personally interviewed every passenger himself and not one was out of place, which meant she must have been chartering her own plane, which took money he couldn't find any history for. She wasn't a thief, at least not in any conventional way, and so he couldn't understand where her funding was coming from. Unless she had super-speed and he didn't know about it; given what he  _did_ know, he doubted it. He'd scourged her history for every little tidbit, knowing  _her_ better than most of his ex-girlfriends,  _combined_.

He supposed that was one of the reasons the majority of his relationships failed, as well. Despite his strictly business relationship with Chloe, it seemed she was on his mind more than his girlfriends could appreciate. She had a certain draw to her that never failed to get his attention and so he imagined he didn't put a lot of thought into his personal relationships when he had such an enticing work one. She was a mystery he'd unraveled and yet there were still so many layers he'd yet to get to.

When he stepped in front of the hotel, his eyes lifted, taking in the beige brick, the beautiful shrubbery that seemed to overflow in an enticing manner, and the umbrella covered tables that sat out in the stone-floor patio on either side. The doorman bowed his head at him as he stepped through the open glass doors and walked straight across the gleaming, polished floors to the front desk. The concierge looked up, eyes widening slightly at his arrival.

"Mr. Queen? We weren't expecting you for another half hour." She hurriedly typed something into her computer and then smiled. "Your companion has already arrived and a bottle of complimentary wine is on its way up to your suite now. Would you like the fresh strawberries put on hold?"

He managed to keep his surprise off his face. "Yes, thank you." He cleared his throat, glancing away. "What room was it I booked again?"

She smiled warmly. "Luxury Suite One," she replied, before rattling off, "There is 400 square feet, a marble Jacuzzi bath with separate shower, a minbar, LCD TV and air conditioner for your comfort. And if there are any business requirements such as high speed access, a separate phone line or voice mail, we can have them hooked back up. Miss. Sullivan asked that we disable them for the night, however." She gave him a cheeky smile and a wink as if she knew just what Chloe had in mind. Oliver had to disagree. But then, she let her identity be known and somehow knew that Oliver would find her here and so his curiosity got the better of him.

"Right, thank you…" Taking the offered key-card, he stepped back from the desk and made his way toward the elevator.

It would be easy, he thought, to call in the cavalry and have Chloe in custody without ever having to enter the room. But then… what kind of end to the chase was  _that?_

Arriving on the fourth floor, he stepped out into the plush, golden hallway and after checking his key for the third time, made his way directly down the left hallway to the door at the end. He stood a long moment just staring at the cherry-wood door, wondering what might meet him on the other end. If she'd wanted to get rid of him, she could have done it at any time; even just three weeks ago with her presumed gun. Instead, she lured him to a luxury hotel, not bothering to hide it was her. Brows furrowed, he slid his key-card through and watched as the light changed from red to green. With an almost inaudible sound to let him know the door was unlocked, he pushed it open slowly, one hand twitching as if to reach for his gun.

The room was beautiful. A black and white marble fireplace bloomed with a flickering fire; nearby sat a table with the wine already waiting, chilled. A large king-sized bed encompassed the majority of the right side, covered in thick burgundy blankets and impossibly white pillows and linens. The double doors to the balcony were open and through them he could see a woman in red; a fitting color, he thought. As he stepped through the arched doors, he admired the long line of her bare legs.

Wearing a red halter dress that seemed to sparkle beneath both the moon and the bright light that spilled from the room, she stood seemingly unaware, staring out at the city before her, at skyscrapers and buildings and the busy traffic below. A cigarette was perched in her left hand, the smoke curling up into the night air and swirling away. He felt like he needed to loosen the tie at his throat, for it seemed to be choking him, too tight and confining.

He walked toward her, his footsteps covered by the city noise around them, and came to a stop just behind her, his head cocked as he looked down at her bare shoulder; soft, enticing. He had to put his hands on his hips, feel the gun there, to remind himself that touching her was not his job. Her head turned, a smile quirking her devilishly red painted lips.

"I wondered if it'd be you or your band of G-men come to take me away."

"I considered calling them in," he admitted, letting his gaze wander down her arm and then along the wispy dress that hugged her sweet curves.

Taking a drag from her cigarette, she held it a moment and then as she exhaled she let the smoke curl out around her lips in an erotic dance that only served to make his mouth dry. "But you didn't."

He raised his eyes to hers, staring at that enticing green that was somehow dangerous and yet innocent. "Who  _are_ you?" he wondered.

She turned then, leaning her back against the railing. "I thought you knew by now..." She lifted a brow. "After ten years, you of all people should have a pretty good idea of who Chloe Sullivan is."

"I thought I did…" He licked his lips, scoffing. "But you have a way of surprising me." His brows furrowed atop his narrowed eyes as they bore into her, demanding answers.

She smiled slowly. "And who do you  _think_ I am, Oliver?" She stabbed her cigarette out and flicked it away. "Who  _is_ Watchtower?"

His jaw ticked, a long inhale following as he turned his eyes away in thought. "Justice-seeker… Hacker… Consistent pain in the FBI's ass…"

She grinned as if proud of that.

"You want good for the world, Chloe… you just don't show it with your actions."

Her smile fled then, eyes falling. "I learned a long time ago that doing the right thing wouldn't mean it was always done back."

His shoulders stiffened at the forlorn sound of her voice, as if she'd suffered such distortion of faith there was no coming back. "So you blackmail and you steal and you get the results you want?"

Her chin lifted proudly, eyes meeting his. "I do what I have to. I keep the world safe the way I know works, the only way I can when certain people are  _above_ the law."

" _Nobody_ is above the law," he argued, grimacing.

"Oliver… Look around you!" She lifted her arms up, showing him the great landscape of Washington behind her. "There are crooked politicians and police on the take  _everywhere_ …" She shook her head. "You of all people should know that money can buy more than happiness; it can buy freedom, crime,  _death_ … There is no law where some are concerned and that's where your job ends and mine begins." Frowning, she stared up at him searchingly. "I know you're supposed to bring me in, I know I'm considered some colossal threat to national security, but if I could just get you to see what it is you're really fighting and who you're fighting  _for_ …"

"Why me?" he argued, shaking his head. Glaring down at her, he reached out and gripped her arm, drawing her close, wanting to shake understanding from her. "Why tell me? Why bring me here?" He scoffed. "You said yourself I could have called in others and had you arrested, so  _why?_ "

"Because…" She reached up, cupping his face. "You're not like them."

His brows furrowed in confusion.

"I see in you the same hero I've seen in my team… in _myself_."

"I'm FBI…" He shook his head, sighing. "I'm not like the people you work with."

"Aren't you?" Her thumb stroked his cheek slowly and he felt his body relax, his shoulders slump. There was something irrevocably  _right_ about being with her like this, of feeling her touch this intimately. "We're fighting the same fight, just in different ways."

"And mine is sanctioned by law, it's  _encouraged_."

She still looked amused by him and he felt like a child trying to tell someone older, wiser, that he knew what he was doing, that he could do it himself like a big boy.

"You've still got faith and that's… admirable. But one of these days you are going to question things and on that day… you'll find me."

His lips pursed, eyes meeting hers. "Seems I already  _have_  found you. And if you think you're going anywhere…"

Sliding her hand up through his hair, she curved her fingers and dragged them down, grazing the base of his neck. "And after this long and tedious chase, what is your  _reward?_ "

He swallowed thickly at how her voice had dropped suggestively, at how her body seemed to glide up against his, so firm and soft and downright perfect. His eyes slid from hers to the red tint of her upturned mouth. "Blackmailing an FBI agent is—"

"Who says I'll blackmail you when it's over?"

He smiled slightly. "It's your M.O."

She cocked a brow. "Of everybody I've gone after, when have I ever used my body to get a confession?"

 _Zero_. But he thought it might have been a pretty damn good bargaining chip.

He could feel her breath against his mouth and a shiver ran down his body, swelling beneath his pants. "You're killing me…" he breathed harshly.

"Then you better use whatever force necessary to  _stop_ me…"

And despite all of his training, his knowledge, his experience, he gave in.

Leaning forward, he slanted his mouth across hers, caught her seductive painted lips and let himself sink wholly into the reward she offered. She tasted of red wine and a bitter twist of smoke was there underneath. He wanted past it to the heat of her tongue, to the true flavor of Chloe Sullivan. Arms wrapped around her small frame, his hand splayed wide along her bare back, the feel of warm, bare skin soft beneath his palm. The back of her red dress slung low to just beneath the small of her back, highlighting satiny skin and the curves of her sensual body. He wanted to explore it all; to spend hours buried in her and find every secret he'd ever wondered over in the dead of night, with nothing more than his gun and his badge to keep him secure in the knowledge that he was doing right by the world and his parents.

As cold air whipped around them, he drew her up into his arms; his hands cupped the backs of her thighs and cradled her high as her legs wrapped tight around his waist. A light laugh escaped her as their mouths parted and their foreheads met. She stared down at him with sweet green eyes; a warmth to her face he thought nobody could fake. He knew this could most definitely come back to bite him in the ass, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There were no regrets as he walked them back into their room, leaving the balcony doors open and the cool breeze in.

As he let her down to her feet, the fire flickered behind her, making shadows dance along her skin. He shrugged his coat off and reached for his tie, but she stepped toward him, her hands shuffling his out of the way, fingers slowly undoing the black fabric with easy precision. Her eyes never left his.

"How'd you get so good at ties?" he asked, brow quirked.

She grinned. "I have three male teammates that often need to sneak into banquets… How do you  _think?_ "

He couldn't help a chuckle. He imagined she did a lot of  _mothering_ for her teammates, seeing as she was the boss and they all seemed a little immature compared to her. He didn't know them personally, but he'd done his research.

Dragging the tie away, she tossed it behind her back and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. "So how does a billionaire end up a G-man, anyway?" she wondered, letting her fingers linger along the definition of his chest and abdomens.

His mouth quirked. "You don't  _know?_  Superior hacker  _Watchtower_ hasn't looked me up?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Of course I have… But it doesn't say in your bio why it is you  _really_ became a hero." She cocked a meaningful brow at him and he let his smile fade, seriousness coming through.

"My parents…" He shook his head. "They deserve to be proud of their son."

Undoing the last button, she parted his shirt, spreading her palms along his waist and sliding them upward. "They would be," she told him sincerely. "You're a good man, Ollie."

Reaching for her, he squeezed her shoulders, his fingers curving and fanning out along soft skin. "You, of all people, should hate me…"

"Why?" She shook her head, scoring her nails down his ribs. "You're doing your job, what you think is right… And so am I."

Sliding his hands up toward her neck, he undid the tie of her dress, letting the straps fall and watching as it hung dangerously atop her breasts. He stared at her. "Eventually… I will have to handcuff you."

She smirked, her hands sliding low to the button on his pants. "Kinky… What happened to foreplay?"

He laughed thickly, a rumble from his chest that he couldn't remember ever being quite so genuine.

He took a moment to undo his gun belt, dropping it on the bedside table before he returned to her. Burying his fingers in her hair, he cupped her head, drawing it back before he bent low to kiss her, his mouth slanting hot and possessive across her own. "I never… thought… we'd end up… here…" he said in between kisses.

She lowered his zipper and tugged his pants free of his hips. "Were you following the same chase as me?" she retorted, smiling.

He chuckled, kicking his pants away from around his feet. "I've never done this," he admitted, rectifying a moment later with, "Not with a perp, anyway."

"So I'm your first…" She snapped the band of his boxer-briefs. "I'll try to be gentle," she whispered teasingly.

His hand slid down her back, fingertips teasing her spine before he cupped her butt and squeezed. "I won't."

She shivered, her eyes fluttering to half-mass as she arched up into him. "Promises, promises…" she murmured thickly.

With a nip to her lower-lip, he tugged her dress free, letting it pool at her waist as he caressed her hips and buried his face in her neck, suckling her pulse and planting soft, lingering kisses along her throat. As her bare breasts met his chest, he felt a jolt of desire that tensed his entire frame with anticipation. Her hips met his, the fabric of her dress heavy against his throbbing erection, trapped against the thin layer of his briefs. Dragging his hands down her body, petting her curves, he shoved her dress down and away and wrapped his hands around her bare buttocks, squeezing. His thumb traced the line of her thong; green, he thought, his favor color. Her arms curved around him, hands splayed across his back, fingers delving into the planes of hard, tensed muscle before sliding low and stroking the base of his back.

Hauling her up until her legs were around his waist once more, he backed them up toward the bed, laying her back before he climbed in between the part of her thighs. She was beautiful. All pale skin and rose-tipped breasts, tight and full and begging for his mouth, his tongue, the heat of his mouth suckling them. His eyes grew dark as she laid wonton before him, spread and not the least bit self-conscious. As if she always knew this was coming, as if it was just a matter of time and she was only happy the clock had finally run out.

He knelt between her legs, his hands exploring the insides of her thighs and up along her ribs, thumbs stroking, fingertips petting along her near-flat stomach. Her ribs were ticklish; she smiled and laughed sweetly as he rubbed the backs of his knuckles along them, grinning back at her. Her breasts were sensitive, even to the lightest puff of his breath against them. He lay atop her, just circling one nipple with his finger, flicking the other ever-so-lightly with the tip of his tongue. She reached for him, a hand buried in his hair, squeezing and stroking as he teased her.

Despite knowing it could never last, he wanted to enjoy every second with her. Eventually, she would be put on trial and sentenced, put away in maximum security prison where she'd have no access to computers and very few visitors. He imagined she would wither quickly in that kind of environment. He wondered if he'd see her; if he'd visit. And when he nuzzled her breast, kissing the underside, he knew he would. He knew he'd broken the cardinal rule as an agent and that he'd willingly break it again, over and over. Never get involved. He was too deep to get out.

With a kiss to the valley between her breasts, he slid up higher, teeth grazing her clavicle before he kissed her chin and hovered atop her mouth, their noses bumping. "This is all kinds of wrong," he murmured.

"That's what your head says," she replied, her hands squeezing his waist as her heel rubbed along the back of his calf. "You've got to learn to think with your heart… It knows better."

That night, he did just that. He stuffed the analytical part of his mind back into the recesses and let his heart have full reign.

His briefs and her thong were shed, tossed to the floor and forgotten. He hauled her thighs up high, stroking the inside as his length lay heavy against her aching slit. The flush of her pale skin was beautiful; it had his cock throbbing in the best of ways. She was wet and ready for him, her legs wide and her clit a hard peal beneath his rubbing thumb. He kissed her as he slid home, as he thrust deep inside, to the very hilt; her shaking walls tight and hot. She gasped; her throat constricting as she clung to him.

Panting, she buried a hand at the nape of his neck and bit her lip.

"Been awhile?" he asked, lifting a brow. He kissed her chin, her cheek, and down her strained neck.

"Try ten years," she murmured throatily.

He paused, lifting his head to look at her wonderingly.

She grinned. "Trust is hard to come by in my line of work." She rocked her hips, trying to get used to him.

His forehead fell hard against her shoulder, the flex of her around him was hard to ignore. "And what… Unh…" His hands wrapped around her arms, squeezing. "What makes me worthy o-of your trust?" he got out, trying not to grind his hips hard against hers.

She stroked the hair back from his temples, smiling all the while. "I have a thing for heroes."

He laughed slightly, fingers fisting as she continued to move around, to contract around his throbbing and painfully harder member. "You're surrounded by them, remember?"

She wrinkled her nose. "They're like my brothers… You… You're more like me than you even  _know_."

He looked at her then, pondered her meaning, but then she was clenching.

"You can move now."

"Oh, thank god."

She laughed, cut off abruptly as he withdrew only to sink back in, hard and full.

Her head fell back, chest arched forward and she moaned, loud and long.

It'd been a long while since he'd had all of his attention on one particular woman; or, more accurately,  _any_ woman that wasn't her. So, to have her in his bed was all kinds of perfection. There was nobody to tell him he wasn't listening or his mind wasn't on  _them_ ; there was no reason to wonder where Chloe was or what trouble she might've gotten into. Because she was there, beneath him, her legs squeezing his waist and her soft, full breast beneath his mouth, his lashing tongue. And he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Oliver wasn't sure he'd ever had a better time with a woman. They were able to laugh together, to give each other control or take it from one another, there were no mute buttons or insecurities. When she came, she cried loud and clear and his name was probably heard throughout the hotel. His fingers stroked her along with his length buried deep inside her, his tongue and teeth plucked her nipples and his hands touched every inch of her body. He kissed her soft lips, long swollen from hard, bruising kisses that seemed to go on forever, ignorant of the need for air. And when they laid sprawled back on the bed, breathing hard and spent, she suggested a bath. With wine glasses in hand a bowl of fresh strawberries to share, they hopped in the Jacuzzi and shared laughter over stories.

Her back pressed to his front, she fed him a strawberry, her head on his shoulder, damp hair stuck to his neck. "Hey, I warned you guys about that jewel heist, it's not my fault you ignored me."

He snorted. "I believe you added a few colorful reasons why the FBI was inept and that's why they chose to ignore you… I was on a completely separate case at the time."

She scoffed. "Sure, blame it on me, the innocent bystander who happened to give you guys a chance to prove yourselves." She turned to nip his neck playfully. "Way to drop the ball, Queen."

He chuckled, holding a strawberry out for her. "And that botched break-in over at Governor Weismann's house, that was…?"

Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes. "I mess up  _one_ B&E…"

Turning, he kissed the top of her head, a grin splitting his face. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"Mmm…" Turning, she tossed her leg over his and climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Just how _unbelievable_ am I?"

Stroking his hands up and down her wet, dripping back, he leaned in to press a kiss against her collar, "Very…" her shoulder, "Very," the pulse at her throat, "Un-" just below her ear, "be-" her cheek, "lieve-" the corner of her mouth, "a-" full and long on her lips, "ble."

Running her hands through his hair and down his neck, she spread them out along his wide shoulders. "You're not so bad yourself."

"No?" He quirked a brow.

"Mmhmm." Her hands slid down between them, wrapping around his hardening length and squeezing. "You want me to prove it?" she whispered, nibbling his lip.

"I'm willing to hear your theory..." he groaned.

Laughing lightly, she stroked him hard and slow while kissing across his chest and as the top of his throbbing manhood peeked out from the water, she bent to take it in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he cried, squeezing her shoulder as he thrust up into her warm mouth.

"Easy, Tiger… I'm a lot of things, but I can't breathe under water," she teased.

Gripping her hair at the base of her neck, he held on as she teased and torture and thoroughly enjoyed him, drawing every last bit of approval from his aching cock.

Still damp from the Jacuzzi, they lay in the massive bed, naked and wrapped around each other. He played with her fingers as the fire sent shadows flickering along the ceiling. "If things had been different…" he murmured, frowning.

"If the  _world_ was a different place," she returned, looking up at him, her chin perched on his shoulder.

His brows furrowed. "You think we would've…?"

Her fingers curled and stroked the expanse of his palm. "I think you and I would've made a great team."

His mouth twitched at the corner. "Yeah, you'd be a pretty good sidekick."

Scoffing, she slapped his chest. " _Me?_ A sidekick?" She rolled her eyes. "I run the show, Queen…  _Remember_ that."

Laughing lightly, he leaned across to kiss her forehead. "Message received."

Resting her head against him once more, she sighed, her eyes falling to half-mass. "But the world isn't different…"

"No…" He stroked her back, his chest aching at the realization. "No, it's not."

She slid her leg along his waist, hand falling to stroke his chest absently.

"Again?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

"I'm not expecting miracles, but the sun  _does_ come up in a few hours."

"Miracles?" He scoffed. "I'll show you a miracle…" Rolling her over on to her back, he grinned as she laughed joyfully, the sound ringing merrily in his ears.

He hoped he never forgot just what she sounded like.

He spent the next few hours memorizing every sound she made, every place that made her ache and arch and moan and whimper. He spent it buried deep inside her heat from every angle he could and he stroked every crevice of her body until they were both so entirely exhausted, they couldn't form words.

Come morning, Oliver woke with a jolt, the sun coming in through the open doors to warm his skin and tint his eyelids red, urging him from his sleep. Still tired, his body aching in the best way, he reached to his right for his companion, only to find the bed empty. Lifting up onto his elbows, he searched the room with sleep-narrowed eyes. "Chloe?" he called out, glancing at the open bathroom door and then out onto the balcony where it too was empty of her.

There was a moment where he wondered if any of it was real or if he'd dream it all up in his obsessed mind. But then, he could still feel her on him, around him, could still smell her on the sheets and his skin. He could still hear her laughter and her cries for  _more… more!_ in his ears and the whisper of his name from her sweet, red lips. Sitting up, he shook his head. He'd been  _had_ … And he couldn't even say he regretted any choice he made.

Reaching for his pants, something caught his eye and he turned to see a piece of paper fluttering in the slight breeze, a full, large strawberry serving as a paper-weight. Picking it up, he read it with furrowed brows and felt a smile curve his lips.

_The best part is the chase. But the reward… that's all kinds of perfect too._

_I've caught you, now it's your turn._

_Try not to take ten years._

_Love, Chloe_

With a shake of his head, he inhaled deeply and let it out on a decisive sigh. If it was the chase she wanted, she'd get it. And when he caught her, tonight would seem like just a  _taste_ of the perfection they could have…

Maybe when he did, he wouldn't have the badge, though. It seemed it came with too many laws and requirements and now that he'd had her, he wasn't sure he could give her up. After all, Oliver Queen didn't need to be an FBI agent to make his parents proud. So long as he was doing the right thing, in whatever form, they would love their son. And he hoped, wherever they were, they'd love their future daughter-in-law as well.

With a smirk, he stood from the bed and hurried to get dressed. He was sure he had just the right go-to-guy for a little insight. His source, Bart Allen. Or, as he now realized,  _Impulse_.

What a woman… so close and so far, the whole time. Just then, he fell in love with her even more and he imagined it'd be a lifetime of the same. Just as soon as he caught her, anyway. It'd be one hell of a chase.  
  
[ **End.** ]


End file.
